Too Soon
by WhatIKnew
Summary: Established Kurt/Blaine. Blaine's mind wanders while he tries to make Kurt relax. From the prompt "shoulders" on my tumblr.


It's unseasonably warm for April. Hell, it's unseasonably warm for June, if he's being honest, but every time he mentions global warming, Kurt narrows his eyes and applies another layer of hairspray, muttering about myths and sacrifices we all have to make.

The point is, it's not supposed to be this hot, and no one's even thought to prep their houses for the summer yet, so Saturday finds them sitting in Kurt's living room, with no air conditioning, trying very hard not to move.

Kurt's been turning magazine pages idly but he hasn't looked down in at least five minutes; his eyes are trained out the window, off to the left, and Blaine knows that he's looking in the direction of his dad's garage, like he can keep an eye on him from here.

When he found out Burt had been putting in more hours at the shop to keep ahead of Dalton tuition, he had immediately filed transfer papers, refusing to hear any protests. Blaine's watched him watch Burt, the sharp intakes of breath whenever he gets home looking a little red in the face (even though it's been REALLY hot outside) or groans when he stands.

Blaine had tried to talk Kurt out of the transfer but one look made it clear that it wasn't up for debate, and so he'd simply made himself as available as possible. He'd gotten very good at texting during class and he could now make it between their houses in 7 minutes if he made all the traffic lights.

Kurt tries to act like everything's fine, and maybe he's even fooling himself, but Blaine can see it in the way his shoulders are up around his ears, even when he's just sitting here trying to see through buildings and watch over his dad.

"Hey," he says softly, tossing away the book he hasn't even been pretending to read and leaning across the couch to poke Kurt's bicep. "C'mere." He closes his hand around the bicep and tugs until Kurt is at a more managable distance, backed up to the leg Blaine has curled in front of him on cushion.

"Take your shirt off," he says quietly, laughing when Kurt squeaks in response. "No, silly. I'm not trying to get in your pants."

"Good," Kurt laughs a little too high, a little too breathless. "Because we might die of heat stroke if we try anything." He shrugs and pulls his t-shirt over his head, because he has no reason not to trust Blaine, to do whatever he asks of him. "Why am I shirtless?"

"Because," Blaine settles his hands on top of Kurt's shoulders and presses them down, squeezing gently, smiling at the little moan that escapes Kurt's throat. "I'm going to do _this_, and you would murder me if I somehow gave you fabric burn."

"Ah," Kurt breathes, his head already falling forward. Blaine cringes at how tight the muscles under his hands feel and sets to work, letting his eyes drift closed as his fingers press at the knots.

They've only been dating for a month but Blaine can already picture them, like this, 5 years from now in their crappy Manhattan apartment. 10 years from now in their slightly less crappy Manhattan apartment. 15 years from now, when they've moved just outside of the city because they want kids and kids need a yard. It all flashes across the inside of his eyelids, this forever, and he waits for the fear that should come with it.

It doesn't.

And that terrifies him.

He's 16; his friends still freak out when their girlfriends mention summer plans, and he's thinking of how Kurt would decorate their house and all he can do is smile. And he's not thinking in the abstract, somedays and what ifs. There are no ifs in his mind, only whens.

He feels his hands tremble a little as they work and opens his eyes to see if Kurt's noticed, but his head is still lolled forward, his breathing slow and even, so he takes a steadying breath of his own.

It's too soon for a lot of things. It's too soon to be picking out baby names and arguing the merits of ranch style vs. split level houses. It's too soon to tell Kurt he's been talking to his parents about transferring to McKinley because Kurt makes him want to be brave (and it makes something in the back of his brain itch when they're apart for too long and he isn't 100% sure that Kurt's safe). It's too soon to say 'I love you,' even though he's known it for a month. Hell, 4 months, if he's being honest.

But Kurt takes one long, impossibly deep breath and Blaine feels him fully relax below his hands, spotting the freckle on the back of his shoulder, the solitary piece of evidence that he's really a man and not an angel sent to reward Blaine for surviving and then teach him how to _live_.

So it's with his mouth pressed against that perfect imperfection that says, "I love you" in a quiet, shaky breath, too soon be damned, breathes it against Kurt's skin like he's trying to imbue it into him, strengthen him with it. The muscle shifts under his lips as Kurt's hand comes up behind him, resting gently in Blaine's hair as he tries his best to turn his head.

"Love you, too," he smiles. And maybe it's too soon for forevers.

But maybe it isn't.


End file.
